Race Around The WWE

by BizGirlCharlie

Chapter 2 up! WWE meets the Amazing Race. Twenty teams of two battle it out over 21 countries for a prize of a million dollars

1. Chapter 1: The start line

This is me, combining my two favourite shows. Yes, I know someone's done this kind of thing before. That someone is Azrael and I highly recommend you seek out her story and read it because it's a real laugh. From what I can tell, hers was written about a year ago, so we work with different characters and I think approach it differently as well. I try to stick to the formula of The Amazing Race as closely as possible, but although I've watched parts of the last three seasons, I've never seen a first episode, so I might be a little off. Actually, I didn't know of Azrael's story until after I started writing this one, so if there are similarities between it and this first chapter, they're coincidental. I'm not intentionally copying anyone.

Note: You do not need to have seen any of 'The Amazing Race' to see this. I explain things as I go. Oh, and sorry it's so long!

Title: Race Around The WWE

Author: BizGirlCharlie

Rating: PG-13 for language, adult themes but no slash because otherwise Carolyn won't let me post it L

Summary: WWE meets the Amazing Race. Twenty teams of two battle it out over 21 countries for a prize of a million dollars.

Characters: Various WWE superstars, plus The Amazing Race's Phil Keoghan. Chapter 1 features special appearances by two guys by the names of Jason Ward and Chad Kilger. If you know who they are, you'll know where our superstars are headed.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I won't even have a job until next year.

At 7:30 AM on a cool fall morning, eighteen teams of two converged upon Babcock Reserve in Greenwich, Connecticut. Each team had a common goal. Over the following days they would travel right around the world. The first team to cross the finish line would win a million dollars.

"A million dollars," Vince McMahon muttered. "I'm a billionaire. A million dollars is pocket change to me. That man in charge who, I might add, I could buy and sell, mentioned something about abseiling, sky diving and public transportation. I'm Vince McMahon, dammit, and I deserve better than this."

"Sorry, dad," his son and team mate Shane replied, shouldering his backpack. "But you know how business is lately. And it was your bright idea to give Big Show a guaranteed ten year, ten million dollar contract. If we win this race, you won't have to pay his contract this year. It'll be all on The Amazing Race. Now you gotta like that idea."

"I don't have to pay for Show, huh?" Vince mused. "How about Mark Henry?"
"Well, we could win a later leg of the race and offer him a cruise instead of his salary," Shane suggested.

"Good plan," Vince nodded, slapping Shane on the back. "We'll make a businessman out of you yet. But I hope you don't expect me to carry my own bag."

Over at the start line, Shannon Moore was nervously bouncing up and down, receiving a pep talk from his team mate, and sensei of Mattitude, Matt Hardy.

"Look at all these teams, Shannon," Matt began, sweeping an arm out to indicate the crowd. "Jericho and Christian, Kurt and Benoit, Test and Stacy. . ."

"They're pretty good, Matt," Shannon piped up. "Stacy's real smart. . .ow!" he squealed as Matt slapped him behind the head.

"You got it wrong, Shannon. None of these teams stand a chance against us. We have 'Moore Mattitude' than any of those teams. As a matter of fact, they don't have any Mattitude at all."

"So, you really think we can win?" Shannon frowned, rubbing his head.

"Shannon, I don't just think we'll win. I know we'll win. Never underestimate the power of Mattitude."

"Hey Matt."

Matt turned and his mouth dropped open at the sight of a tall, athletic woman in tiny shorts and a tight, cropped tank.

"L-lita!" he stammered. "Baby, what are you doing here?"
Lita grinned and elbowed him in the side. "Winning a million dollars."

"But – you can't!" Matt cried. "Me and Shannon are gonna win. We're the only team with enough Mattitude to get this done."

"You trying to say I don't have Mattitude?" Lita challenged. "That's not what you were saying last night."

Matt swallowed. "I know, okay? I'm sorry, baby. You can join in the race. In fact, Shannon, go home. Lita's gonna be my partner."

"Don't worry Matt. I've already got a partner," Lita informed him as another person stepped up.

"Hi Matt. Hi Shannon."

Shannon blushed furiously and lowered his gaze. "Hi Trish."
"Well," Lita grinned, holding her hand out to a bewildered-looking Matt. "May the best team win."

"You're in big trouble this time," called another female voice, this one full of mocking. "Didn't you read the instructions, Lita? No midriff-baring tops in case we go to a country that might find it offensive, which we will."
Lita shrugged confidently. "No sweat, Molly. Trish?" she called, pointing around her back.

"My pleasure, partner," Trish replied, reaching in under Lita's backpack and undoing the knot in the tank top, letting it drop down to its full length, now skimming the top of Lita's shorts.

"If we're going to win this thing, we have to be resourceful," Lita announced. "I start with my clothes."

Scowling, Molly turned away and began searching for her partner, Gail Kim.

By now, all the teams were arguing, some even reverting to physicality. Phil checked his watch, trying to ignore a flirtatious Nidia, who had obviously picked him as the person to assure that she and Jamie Noble would win the million dollars. It was time to begin.

Phil picked up the microphone, hoping the small portable speaker would carry the sound of his voice to the warring wrestlers.

"Ladies, gentlemen and mansters, welcome to the Amazing Race, WWE edition. A hundred yards from here, you'll see a box with red and yellow markings. This contains the first clue for your race around the world. Follow a series of clues to reach a designated pit-stop for each leg of the race. The last team to arrive at each pit stop will be eliminated. Is that understood?"
There was a murmur of agreement and Phil nodded, holding his hand up for silence again. "Fine. Then take your places at the starting line and when I fire this starting pistol, you can begin. See you at the first pit-stop."

He held the pistol in the air.

"A pistol?" cried a voice. "No, Phil!"

Bang! Seventeen teams sprinted from the line, but Rosey was meandering over to Phil.

"Guns aren't the answer, Phil."

"Rosey," Phil smiled smugly, despite the size difference between him and the S.H.I.T. "It's a starting pistol. I'm not using it to hurt anyone."

"But it's still a gun and as a certified Super Hero In Training, I'll have to confiscate it," Rosey told him.

"Rosey!" Hurricane shouted. "Come on! We're losing!"

Rosey turned to find that the other teams had almost reached the box. "Okay, I'm coming!"

Lance Storm reached the box first, quickly followed by Rob Van Dam and Chris Jericho and then the rest of the crowd. The teams split up to read the clue.

"Choose a marked car and drive yourselves to New York City, then make your way to Montréal, Québec, Canada. You will find your next route marker at the 'Musée des maitres et artisans du Québec'."

"What the heck?" Rob frowned, squinting at the French words. "Mussy dess mattress. . ."

"Don't worry about it," his partner Tommy Dreamer cut in, taking the clue. "We'll figure it out once we get there. "First we have to get ourselves to New York."

"Okay," Rob smiled. "Cool. Um, where are those cars?"

"Over there!" a gleeful Nidia cried before she could stop herself and there was another rush, this time for the cars.

"I'm driving, bitch," Test announced, chortling as he grabbed Rey Mysterio and dragged him from the car, then taking his place in the driver's seat.

Stacy rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say."

The cavalcade left the park, but four cars were left behind, with Hurricane and Rosey claiming one of them as fast as possible.

"Uh, dad, where are we going?" Shane asked, striding out to keep up with his power-walking father.

"You think I'm driving to New York?" Vince cried. "I've never driven to New York in my life. I left the limo over here. We'll take the private plane and be at La Guardia before the other teams even reach the Bronx."

"Um, I'm pretty sure that's against the rules," Shane announced.

Vince turned to him with a glare. "I'm Vincent Kennedy McMahon. I don't follow rules. I make my own. Now, are we in this race?"
"Yeah, sure, til we get kicked out for cheating," Shane muttered under his breath.

"Shane?"

"Yeah, let's go."

"Daddy!" cried a voice and Stephanie rushed over to her father. "We missed the start. Hunter had to repack our luggage. Can you believe I can only take one bag? It'll be almost okay. I made Hunter pack more of my things and leave some of his behind. We have to get the clue first, but once we do, can we travel with you? If we have to fly, there's no way I'm travelling coach."

"Uh, sure thing, Stephanie," Vince muttered. "We'll wait right here."

"Thank you, daddy," Stephanie cheered, kissing her father on the cheek. As she drew back, she let out an almighty yell. "Hunter! Move it! We have to get the clue!"

And then Hunter appeared, toting two backpacks.

Vince waited only until they were out of sight. "Okay, Shane. Let's go."

And the father and son team took off for Vince's limo.

Stephanie took one look at the clue and handed it to Hunter. "Your family's French, what does it say?"
"It says we have to go to Montreal," Hunter deadpanned.

"Okay, well daddy said he'd take us, so hurry." She ran back to the place she'd left her father, as fast as her two thousand dollar shoes would carry her. "Dad? Daddy? Shane?"

"Give it up, Steph," Hunter called. "They've left us behind. Get in the car, and I'll drive us to New York."

Phil checked his watch again. There was still one team yet to arrive. If they took any longer he'd have to call them a no-show, perhaps causing this first leg to be non-elimination. But just as he'd stepped aside to let the crew pack things up, there was a loud motoring sound and a horn rang out, blaring the tune of La Cucaracha. Eddie Guerrero brought the low rider to a halt right in front of Phil.

"Hey, Phil!" he called, jumping out of the car and hugging the presenter. "How goes it, essa?"

"You're the man, Phil," Chavo added.

"Eddie and Chavo, you're late," Phil told them.

"Yeah, I know, man," Eddie nodded. "Vato, you know how hard it is to get a nice car here in Greenwich, huh? They got limousines, all kinds, but no good low riders, man."

"We got one though," Chavo piped up.

"Yeah, she's nice, huh, Phil?" Eddie asked.

"The other teams have left," Phil announced. "You're in last place."

"What?" Eddie cried, suddenly furious. "Those other teams, they couldn't even wait for Los Guerreros?"

"The first clue box is over there," Phil said, pointing. "You'd better get moving if you don't want to be eliminated."

"Come on, Chavito!" Eddie ordered. "We gotta get out of here, man!"

And so they ran for the clue.

*     *     *     *

"La Guardia or JFK?" Lita wondered aloud.

"La Guardia's north of JFK, right?" Trish asked her.

"Yeah, I think so," Lita nodded. "So that means La Guardia's closer."

"We'll go to JFK," Trish decided.

"Uh, okay, why?" Lita asked skeptically.

"Well, there are a few teams ahead of us. I can try to catch them, but I don't see us being any faster than fourth or fifth. How many people do you think will be able to squeeze onto a flight to Montreal at the last minute?"
"So you want to give up on the first plane?" Lita asked her.

"Not necessarily," Trish argued. "Everyone's gonna go to La Guardia. If the first plane leaves out of Kennedy, we could be the only ones on it. That could mean a huge lead for us."

"Okay," Lita nodded. "JFK it is."

*     *     *     *

The WWE company jet touched down at La Guardia airport. Vince and Shane were quick to disembark, moving over to the international terminal like seasoned veterans.

They only had to wait briefly in line before they reached the bookings desk.

"I need two first class tickets to Montreal, Quebec as soon as possible," Vince told the clerk.

"Uh, dad," Shane called.

"Not now, Shane, let's get this organized and cement our lead."

"Dad, we only have a thousand dollars between us," Shane told him. "We can't afford to fly first class."

Vince froze, turning to his son. "What?"

"We'll have to fly coach," Shane sighed. "Look, I don't like it anymore than you do, but it's one of the major rules of the competition. We can't use our own money to fund the race. Breaking one rule. . .we might get away with it. But breaking this one. . .I just don't think so, dad."

"We have to fly coach," Vince repeated dumbly.

"Yeah. You know," Shane rushed on before Vince could say anything else. "Sometimes you have to spend money to make money. Well this time, we have to not spend money to make money."

"I don't fly coach," Vince replied bluntly.

"Are you going to buy these tickets?" the clerk asked.

"Just a minute," Shane waved her off. "Dad, we don't have a choice here. We can pull out of this race and someone else wins the million dollars. Or we can take our lead, fly coach, get to Montreal ahead of everyone else and completely blow everyone out of the water in the first round."

"Fine," Vince nodded, turning to the girl. "Two coach class tickets to Montreal on the earliest flight you can book."

"Let's see. . .I have a flight at 10:25. . .that's the soonest."

Vince glanced at his watch. "Would another airline have a flight that leaves at about ten?"

"Well, you could try," the clerk told him. "But I don't like your chances."

"Okay," Vince sighed. "Get us on the 10:25."

*     *     *     *

"Well look, Christian, if it isn't the Vinman."

Vince went pale at the sight of the two blonde Canadians. "Christian. . .Jericho. . .how'd you get here so fast?"

"We could ask you the same question, boss," Christian replied, draping himself antagonistically right in the middle of the row of chairs facing Vince and Shane. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you flew."

Vince gave a low laugh. "Well, you know the interstate, if you get a run on, sometimes it does give that impression."

"That's how we got here, too," Jericho nodded. "You know, exceeded the speed limit, hit a couple of kids. It's every team for themselves in this thing."

Vince frowned. "So, the two of you are the only ones here?"
"Hate to burst your bubble, boss, but Test was right behind us in the line," Christian told him.

"And I'm pretty sure I saw Benoit coming in the entrance," Jericho added.

"Oh, and psycho Victoria was stopped at the metal detectors – I don't even want to know why," Christian shuddered.

"And Mysterio. . ." Jericho began, but Vince cut him off.

"So all those teams have caught up with us. . .but they wouldn't all have made it onto this flight."

Shane glanced around at the group of people waiting to board. "There's no way," he agreed.

"Then gentlemen, we have nothing to worry about," Vince smirked.

The light on the signboard next to their flight flashed to 'boarding'. Vince and Shane collected their things and headed for the plane, followed by Jericho and Christian, Steven Richards and Victoria, Kurt Angle and Chris Benoit, Stacy and Test, and Rey Mysterio and some other guy in a mask they didn't recognize.

The signboard flashed to 'departed' and that was when Bubba Ray and D-Von Dudley raced into view.

"Hold the plane!" Bubba boomed. "Hold the plane!"

"Sorry, sir," the petite attendant replied. "You're too late."

"Arrrrgggh!" Bubba cried in frustration. "D-Von, where's the nearest table?"

"Come on, man," D-Von replied. "We've gotta go change our flight. I heard Mysterio saying something about a different airline leaving at around eleven."

"If there's a plane leaving at eleven, we're on it," Bubba announced and he and D-Von raced back through the airport.

*    *    *    *

"Torrie, you brought the wrong Billy!" Nidia cried in surprise.

Torrie smiled back as she and Kidman made their way to the departure gate of the second flight.

"My other Billy's still injured, so I called on an old friend," she explained.

Nidia turned away to briefly French kiss Jamie before replying. "Well, he's welcome to hang with us. The more the merrier."

Kidman frowned as Nidia winked at him and Jamie gave him the thumbs up. "Should I have gone with Rey?" he whispered to Torrie.
Torrie's face fell. "You promised!"

"Yeah, I know," Kidman agreed. "So, what, you want us to form some kind of Alliance with these two?"
"Well, it won't hurt," Torrie replied. "And they're fun."

"Yeah, they look it," Kidman half-joked, watching as Nidia straddled Jamie, her curls flying everywhere.

"Morning, all, glad to see we made it to New York City safe and sound. Rob, I'm surprised to see you here – you've learned to read a map at last. . .or read at all."

"Dude, blow me," Rob retorted. "What are you even doing here, Paul?"

"My, Rob, what an attitude," Paul Heyman smirked. "I'm here to accompany my client, Brock Lesnar, as his partner."

"Didn't he stop being your client like a year ago?" Rob asked.

"Correct," Paul confirmed. "But now that he's become 'the new Brock Lesnar' he's a more attractive proposition as a client. Plus there's the fact that Vince and Shane are off playing happy families."

"Okay," Rob shrugged, still confused. "So Brock, why'd you choose his fat ass?"
"It was either him or the Big Show," Brock explained. "Paul's smarter. And he's ruthless. That's what you need to win this race. And I'm gonna win – just like I beat Kurt Angle for the WWE title."

"Whatever, dude. Personally, I would've gone for Show."

"Hey muchachos y muchachas," Eddie Guerrero called. "See Chavo, told you we'd make it, what was I telling you, huh?"

"Guess I owe you five bucks," Chavo replied.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Eddie told him. "Soon as we get to Mexico, you buy me some tequila, man, okay?"
"We're going to Canada, not Mexico," Chavo reminded him.

"Yeah, now we're going to Canada, but sometime we have to go to Mexico," Eddie explained. "You can't go all the ways around the world without at least stopping in Mexico."
"What?" yelled a voice.

"I said we found the other teams," another voice shouted back.

"What?"
"The other teams are here."

"What?"
"Aw, forget it. This is a nightmare, you know that?" Eric Bischoff sighed, slumping down in the chair next to Brock and looking over at where Hurricane was giving Rosey further instructions. "All you people actually got a choice in this. If I don't take part, I get fired. In fact, I get fired if Steve and I come last in this first leg of the race. I think Vince only made us do this for his own sick amusement."

"What?" Austin shouted again.

Eric just groaned and slumped even further, but luckily he didn't have to wait long as the plane began to board.

"Stephanie, move your ass!"
"I'm trying!" Stephanie grunted, struggling with the backpack that Hunter had made her carry. "If I didn't have to carry this bag. . ."

"If you don't get moving, we'll miss the flight and get eliminated and then you won't have to carry the bag anymore," Hunter told her. "Of course, we'll be down a million bucks."

"Okay," Stephanie replied forcefully. "You go and make them wait. I'm coming as fast as I can."

Hunter sprinted to the gate. "Hold the plane, we're supposed to be on that."

"We're about to close," the attendant warned him.

"I know – just. . .ten seconds."

"I'm coming, Hunter!" Stephanie screeched.

Hunter shuddered and handed over his boarding pass, just as Stephanie came to a stop beside him. "Damn, Steph, that bag couldn't weigh more than ten pounds. Your purse weighs less than that."

"Well, I'm not used to carrying things on my back," Stephanie rationalized, following him down the walkway to the plane and becoming the tenth team to board that flight – after Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman, Bubba Ray and D-Von Dudley, Rob Van Dam and Tommy Dreamer, Torrie Wilson and Billy Kidman, Nidia and Jamie Noble, Faarooq and Bradshaw, Steve Austin and Eric Bischoff, Hurricane and Rosey, and Eddie and Chavo Guerrero.

*     *     *     *

The third plane departed JFK at 11:45 AM, carrying the remaining four teams – Lita and Trish, Gail Kim and Molly Holly, Lance Storm and Dawn Marie, and Matt Hardy and Shannon Moore. Just five minutes later, the first plane touched down at Montreal's Dorval Airport. Rey Mysterio and his partner somehow managed to beat the other teams through customs and out-sprint them to the waiting row of taxis.

"Hey man, you speak English?" Rey asked, climbing in the back.

"Yes, and French," the driver confirmed.

"Okay, good," Rey nodded, holding out the clue and pointing to the name of their destination. "Take us here, as fast as you can go, please."

"Okay, I will get you there," the driver told them.

Rey settled back in his seat, grinning over at his partner. "Man, this is gonna go so great. You're the last person anyone's gonna expect me to have for my team mate."

His partner just nodded and held up his hand.

"The Musée des maitres et artisans du Québec," Benoit recited in perfectly accented French as he and Kurt climbed into the second cab.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you're French Canadian," Kurt remembered once the driver told them he knew their destination. "What's that mean anyway?"
"It's an art museum," Benoit told him.

"Oh, right," Kurt nodded. "Art museum. Wow. I'm in Canada and I'm going to an art museum. Whoo!"

Benoit just rolled his eyes.

"Follow that cab!" Vince ordered and the third cab roared off into the streets.

"Who's that?" Shane asked just minutes later. "Oh, it's Jericho and Christian."

"Step on it, driver," Vince ordered. "If you expect a tip you will not let that other cab overtake us."

Rey and his partner were the first to reach the art museum and there, at the entrance, was the route marker box. They paid their driver and sprinted over to it, removing their clue just as Kurt and Benoit's cab pulled up.

"Detour. Flies or Fly. In a detour, teams have a choice of two tasks, each with its own pros and cons. In "flies", teams must make their way to the Montreal Insectarium and participate in an insect tasting. Once they have each tasted all of the insects on offer, they will be given their next clue. The task will not require athletic ability, but it will require a strong stomach. In "fly", teams must travel to the headquarters of Cirque du Soleil and participate in a simple trapeze catch. Once both members have successfully caught the trapeze, they will be given their next clue. The stunt is quick to learn and basic to perform, but will require athletic ability."

"Let's fly?" Rey asked.

His partner nodded and they sprinted back to their cab.

"We're built for strength, not agility," Benoit said to Kurt. "Let's go for the bugs."

"Whoa," Kurt stopped him. "Bugs? I'm not eating any bugs, Benoit. No freaking way."

"Well, we're not gonna beat Mysterio at the circus thing," Benoit pointed out.

"But we might beat his partner." Kurt argued. "Who is that guy, anyway?"
"Bye-bye, assclowns!" Chris Jericho cried as he and Christian raced past, having collected their clue. "See you at the circus."

Benoit scowled, glaring at Kurt. "We're eating the bugs."

"Okay, fine," Kurt relented. "We'll eat the bugs."

"Kurt!" shouted a breathless Vince McMahon. "Is that the way to the clue?"

"Uh, no," Kurt replied quickly. "Two doors down, just knock, they give you the clue."

"Thank you, Kurt," Vince said. "I knew I could count on you."

"Good luck, Mr McMahon," Kurt called, following Benoit to the cab. "Now let's get the heck out of here."

Just as their cab left, Victoria and Steven's arrived.

"Come on, Stevie," Victoria insisted, clinging tightly to Steven's arm. "A million dollars is a lot of chickens."

"Okay, baby doll," Steven replied dotingly. "First we get the clue. . .and then. . .then the chickens!"
"What's it say, baby?" Victoria asked as Steven pulled the clue envelope from the box and opened it up.

A psychotic grin lit up Steven's face as he read. "Oh Vic, remember that fetish we talked about?"

"The one where you wear a diaper and call me momma?" Victoria guessed.

"No, try again."

"Bugs?" Victoria frowned, her eyes opening in wonder as Steven nodded. "Stevie, we get to eat bugs!"

"I know, honey bunch. This is the greatest day of our lives. Now come, the bugs are waiting."

They couldn't get to the cab fast enough.

"Ha, freaks," Test muttered, slamming the door of his cab.

"Um, Test, those 'freaks' are beating us," Stacy pointed out.

Test gave her a withering look. "Those psychos can beat whatever they want. You get your ass up there and grab that clue."

"Fine, but the rules say you have to get to the clue, too."

"Oh, I'll get to something," Test muttered, striding out next to Stacy and giving her a slap on the ass just as she reached the box.

"Ugh, stop it!" Stacy squealed. "I'll take the clue, since you can't read."

"Like you were an honors student," Test replied as Stacy began reciting the clue, glaring at him over the top.

"I am not eating bugs," she stated emphatically.

"Well, you're not athletic enough for the circus," Test countered.

Stacy shook her head. "I was a cheerleader," she reminded him pointedly. "If anyone's not coordinated, it's you."

"I bet I pass the task before you do," Test challenged. "And if I do, you have to kiss me."

"Fine, whatever," Stacy sighed. "And if you don't, you have to not speak until we reach the pit-stop."

"That's cool with me," Test told her as they reached their cab. "But Stace, I never said *where* you have to kiss me."

Slam! The door of the cab shut and they were gone.

"Dammit, Shane! Why'd you listen to that traitor Angle?" Vince snapped as he and his son ran back into view.

"Actually, dad, I think that was you."

"Well, wake up, Shane. The clue box is over there."

"I got it." Shane sprinted to the box and took out his clue, quickly opening it. "Uh oh." He recited it t his father. "Well, I'm cool with the circus thing. . ."

"Well, I'm not," Vince snapped. "Let's go eat the insects. Earning my first million was harder than that."

"I'd really rather learn the trapeze. . ."

"Get in the cab, Shane. My decision is final."

*     *     *     *

"This is it!" Rey cried and the cab stopped outside a building. "Can you wait for us again, man? Here's the money so far."

"Yes, I can wait," the driver told him so Rey and his partner left their cab and headed into the building, the Montreal headquarters of Cirque du Soleil. Beyond the entrance it was inauspicious, just a warehouse with a high ceiling. Two men in spandex costumes were waiting for them.

"Welcome to Cirque du Soleil," one said. "We're going to teach you how to move from one trapeze to another. You won't be able to use a harness, but there will be a net to catch you if you fall, so you won't be hurt. Please watch as we demonstrate."

There were two tall ladders, one at each side of the room and the two men began to climb, one per ladder.

"Please watch me," the one who'd spoken before went on. "What you must do is to hang upside down, with your legs over the bar. When it's your turn, I will wait for you to be ready, then I will push you. Then Lazar will push the other trapeze. As soon as you see it, you must reach, catch it and swing back. Then you can drop to the net. Observe."

He pulled a chain to release the trapeze, then climbed upside down, using his own momentum to start swinging. Rey and his partner watched in awe as Lazar released his trapeze and the other acrobat simply grabbed it, swung down, then changed his grip and landed on the second platform.

"It's not as hard as it looks," he assured them.

"Whoa," Rey muttered. "Maybe we should have gone for the bugs."
"No way," his partner replied quietly. "We can do it."

"You think?" Rey frowned. "Well you go first."

"Okay." Rey's masked partner headed up the ladder, just as the first acrobat swung himself back over. The acrobat repeated his instructions, and then it was time to begin. Rey's partner swung out, reached and grabbed the trapeze first time before dropping to the net below.

"Yeah!" Rey punched the air. "You did it!"
His partner just smiled. "See? I knew it'd be easy. They wouldn't make us do anything impossible."

"Nothing's impossible, I guess," Rey agreed. Still, he crossed himself before he began to climb. Once he got to the top, he focused on the task ahead of him.

"You'll choke, Mysterio!" cried a voice down below.

"Yeah, you'll so achieve chokage," another voice agreed.

Then there was the sound of coughing.

"Oh, what's that I hear?" the first voice asked. "It's little Rey, choking to death."

Rey's face hardened beneath the mask. "I'm ready," he announced. He knew from watching that he'd have to start swinging his body as soon as he was pushed, so that was what he did. The instant the other trapeze came into view, he uncoiled his legs and reached. The bar hit his hands, he closed his palm and he was free. He'd succeeded. Excitedly, he let go of the trapeze and did a somersault down to the net.

"Congratulations," the first acrobat told him. "Your clue is on the wall where you entered. Good luck."

"What?" Christian cried. "The little freak did it?"

"Sure did," Rey's partner grinned, handing Rey his backpack so they could make the dash for the clue. "See you at the pit-stop!"

"Hey, I know that voice," Christian mused. "C-man, you know who that other masked freak is?"
But the cameras had followed Rey's team to the clue.

Rey's partner opened it and began to read.

"Montreal is famous for its annual comedy festival. Make your way to the home of comedy in Montreal, the Humour Museum, and look for your next route marker."

"Go, go," Rey said and they ran for their cab again.

*     *     *     *

"I'm not eating that," Kurt stated emphatically.

"Yes, you are," Benoit replied, just s forcefully.

"Well. . .I'd like to see you do it," Kurt staled.

"I'm gonna do it," Benoit snapped.

"Well fine, do it then."

"I will."
"Good, then do it."

Benoit lunged for the plate in front of him, which was metaphorically crawling with insects. One by one he shoved them into his mouth until they were all gone.

"There."

Kurt stared at him in disgust. "You're Hannibal Lecter!"

"Eat the damn bugs!" Benoit snapped. "The longer you stand here complaining like a little girl, the further behind we're getting. I'm not losing this race because you couldn't do what that seven-year-old kid over there did and eat the bugs."

"Okay, okay," Kurt muttered, reaching for the plate.

One bug went into his mouth and he cringed dramatically before his face relaxed. "Hey, these aren't so bad."

He ate the rest quickly, then took the next clue from the person who'd been holding the plate.

"We have to go to the humour museum," he announced as he and Benoit started running. "Hey Benoit, why didn't you tell me they tasted like chicken?"

Benoit just shook his head.

*     *     *     *

Back at Cirque du Soleil, the trapeze slipped from Jericho's hands and he went crashing into the net.

"You suck, Jericho," Christian laughed, heading to the ladder for his turn as the acrobats used long poles to retrieve the trapezes. "Check this out. I am king of ladders."

"Then why'd you lose your IC title to RVD in a ladder match?" Jericho countered, climbing down from the net.

"Shut up," Christian snapped. He reached the top and followed the first acrobat's instructions for getting onto the trapeze.

"Let her rip, buddy," he called and he was flying through the air. He lunged for the second trapeze, uncoiling his legs, but grabbed only air and then he was falling.

"Ha!" Jericho laughed as Christian hit the net. "Who sucks now, junior?"
"If you hadn't mentioned that RVD thing, I would've made it," Christian argued. "And anyway, you didn't do any better."

"Yeah, well I will this time," Jericho told him. "Nothing – not man, machine or trapeze – gets the best of Chris Jericho for long."

"Hey losers!" called a voice and the two of them turned to find that Test and Stacy were running for the ladder. As they reached it, Test shoved Stacy to the floor and began to climb.

"Remember, Stace, if I make this before you, you'll be kissing any part of my body I want you to."

A disgusted Stacy picked herself up. "You think it's wrong of me to want my team mate to fail?" she asked the cameras.

"Hey CJ, I just thought of something," Christian announced loudly, despite the fact that Jericho was right next to him. "Test rhymes with breast. The guy's a gigantic hooter!"
"Yeah, breast, or messed. . .which fits, since he's gonna make an absolute mess of this stunt," Jericho agreed.

"Go. . .Breast. . .go! And miss!" Christian cried as Test reached for the trapeze. Sure enough, he didn't manage to catch it and fell to the net.

Stacy only allowed herself a little smirk before she started to climb.

"Okay, Stace," she muttered. "You can do this. It's not even about the money – it's about beating Test."

She listened carefully to the acrobat's instructions and climbed onto the trapeze. She could do this – she was a cheerleader.

"Go," she called and the trapeze began to swing. She kept her muscles relaxed but ready for movement and the instant she spotted the trapeze everything began to happen. Before she knew it, the bar was in her hands. She let out an excited cry as she dropped to the net.

"That's for everyone who says I'm not an athlete!" she cheered, before turning to her partner. "And it also means you have to shut up."

"Tough call, dude," Christian said sympathetically as Jericho began to climb for his second attempt. Jericho succeeded on his second try, but Christian didn't and neither did Test. With the knowledge that another team could arrive at any moment, the pressure was on. They had to make the catch – for the sake of their teams – for the sake of the million dollars.

*     *     *     *

The first thing of note that greeted Vince and Shane when they reached the Insectarium was the sight of Victoria and Steven happily feeding each other bugs.

"These are good, huh, Stevie?" Victoria asked.

"Yeah, I wonder if they'll let us take some. . .for later."

Vince and Shane exchanged glances.

"I'm not feeding them to you," Shane announced.

"Don't be a moron," Vince snapped as a girl approached them with a plate. They began to eat, much slower than the rival team.

*     *     *    *

The second plane arrived at Dorval Airport around the same time as Rey's team reached the route marker, with Kurt and Benoit, out of sight, but just minutes behind.

"There's the clue!" Rey announced. They ran to it and his partner removed the next clue.

"Find the home base for Canadiens everywhere."

"They misspelled 'Canadians'," Rey frowned.

"Do you think it means the hockey team?" his partner asked.

"Maybe," Rey shrugged. "Where do we have shows when we're in Montreal? That's at a hockey stadium, right?"

"I don't remember. Maybe we should ask the cab driver."

They ran back to their cab.

"Hey man, where does the hockey team play?" Rey asked.

"You mean the Canadiens?" the driver asked. "The Bell Centre."

"Cool," Rey smiled. "Get us there, please."

"Hey Rey," his partner called. "That cab over there. Is that Benoit and Kurt?"
"Oh yeah," Rey noticed as their cabs passed one another. "Hey, can you make sure you go fast?" he asked the driver. "There's another cab right on our tail."

"You want Jacques Villeneuve?" the driver questions. "I can be Jacques Villeneuve." And then he gunned it.

*     *     *     *

"Find the home base for Canadiens everywhere," Kurt read out loud.

"Montreal Canadiens," Benoit mused. "Bell Centre."
"Okay," Kurt nodded. "Let's go get us some ice."

*     *     *     *

"Yes!" Jericho cried as Christian caught the trapeze. "Nothing can hold down the King of Bling-Bling. Not even you, CLB."

"What did you just call me?" Christian snapped.

"Ha ha, nothing," Jericho replied with a nervous laugh. "Let's just read this thing. Humour museum."

"You won't find two guys more humorous than us," Christian pointed out.

"And you know what else is funny?" Jericho went on. "Tit and Ass over there can't even catch a cold."

"Yeah, they're not acrobats," Christian agreed. "They're just a couple of circus clowns."

"A couple of assclowns," Jericho smirked. "Bye-bye, jackasses!"
They ran from the building to find Eddie and Chavo just exiting a taxi.

"Hey!" Eddie greeted them. "Que pasa, essas?"

"Yeah, fine," Christian muttered, suddenly irritable again. "How'd they catch us?"

"Beats me," Jericho shrugged, before stopping. "Christian. Where's our cab?"

But Christian just brushed it off. "Don't worry about it. We'll just take la casa Guerrero. If they can lie, cheat and steal, then so can we."

"Good plan," Jericho agreed and they made a run for it. "But doesn't 'casa' mean house?"

*     *     *     *

His face firmly scrunched up, Vince slowly put the last bugs in his mouth and swallowed as though he'd just ingested his last meal.

"All done," he announced weakly, letting Shane collect and read the clue. "No more bugs?"
"No. Back in the cab and to the Humour Museum."

That made Vince brighten just a little. "Alright. Let's go, shall we?"
They began to run back through the Botanic Gardens to where they'd left the cab.

"Holy shit!" Shane cried suddenly.

Coming towards them were six teams, all in a dash for the Insectarium.

Vince was a little more relaxed. "Hello there, Eric," he called. "How are you enjoying the race?"
"Boss," Bischoff began. "Bite me."

"Enjoy your insects, everyone," Vince smiled as the last of the group, Bubba Dudley, ran past. But just then, he spotted another team.

"I'm not speaking to you, daddy!" Stephanie shouted. "This is all your fault!"
Vince just glanced at Shane as they continued running. "I ask you this. Who needs a humour museum when those Amazing Race cameras will be able to film my daughter eating bugs. I can't wait to see the look on her face."

*     *     *     *

"Come on, Uncle Eddie!" Chavo shouted. "It's all Lucha libre!"
Eddie made it to the platform, threw his hands in the air and screamed. "Viva la Razza!"

And then he climbed onto the trapeze, was pushed and made the catch first time.

"Yeah!" Chavo cheered. "Way to go, Latino Heat!"

"See?" Stacy asked, smirking at Test. "Even he can do it."

Test began to open his mouth to argue, but Stacy held up her hand. "Not so fast. Not talking, remember? Now get up there and actually do it right this time."

But Test still had to wait. It was Chavo's turn.

Eddie cheered him on in rambling Spanish and sure enough, he caught the trapeze.

Test rolled his eyes and turned towards the door, only to find that another team had arrived. That was when he broke his code of silence.

"You gotta be kidding me. How the hell do you think your fat ass is gonna catch the trapeze?"

Hurricane looked at Rosey and then back at Test.

"Quite easily. You see, Test, by underestimating us, you've forgotten something important."

"Yeah?" Test asked mockingly. "And what's that?"
Hurricane smiled right back at him. "We're superheroes. . . .beeatch!!!"

Test could only laugh. "Hey Stace, I'm letting this fat piece of shit go before me. This I gotta see."

*    *     *     *

Team Mysterio's cab driver had sped through traffic to arrive at the Bell Centre. Now they just had to find the route marker.

"There it is!" Rey cried.

The cab pulled to a stop and Rey and his partner ran for their next clue.

Rey opened it and began to read.

"It's a roadblock. The person who completes this task will need to be able to keep their balance on a slippery surface. A roadblock is a task that can only be completed by one person. In this roadblock, the designated team member must suit up in the Montreal Canadiens' locker room, then take to the ice and meet with Canadiens winger Jason Ward, who will act as goaltender. On the ice will be five pucks. Shoot them all at the goalie. If any of the pucks scores a goal you will receive your next clue. But if you fail to score you must start again, bearing in mind that only one person can take to the ice at any one time. Wow." Rey glanced at his partner. "You played much hockey, man?"
"Nope. You?"
"No." Rey shook his head. "And Kurt and Benoit might be right on our tail. Who's gonna do this?"
"Your balance is probably better than mine. Maybe you should."

Rey nodded slowly. "Okay. But face it, man. We're probably gonna lose our lead. Kurt and Chris were right behind us. I bet they've both played some hockey in their time."

"So you go in there and score a goal before they even show up. We're gonna win this leg, Rey. I can feel it."

*     *     *    *

"Come on, baby," Jamie Noble cheered. "It's just like that time we had to live off anything we could catch. You remember that?"
"I got it, Jamie," Nidia replied. "Nothing's gonna get in my way." She received her plate of bugs and started tucking in.

Stephanie was somewhat less enthusiastic. She held up her first bug, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "Hunter, I'd really rather we did the circus one."

"Just eat it, Steph," Triple H snapped.

"You know what this needs?" Bradshaw asked between bites.

"What's that?" Faarooq prompted.

"A nice cold beer to wash it all down."

"Damn. You're right."

Tommy Dreamer had already finished his plate and was eyeing off his partner's. "You done with that, Rob?"

"Nah, I got it, man," Rob told him, polishing off his own allocation. "I still say the circus one would've been pretty cool."

"You can choose next time," Tommy offered. "Right now we've gotta move on to the next clue."

By now they'd left the Insectarium behind anf could read their clue without being overheard.

"Humour Museum," Rob read. "Cool idea."

"Come on, girl!" Jamie cried, pulling Nidia along. "You see Dreamer and Van Dam over there?"
"Hi boys," Nidia called cheerfully as they drew level. "You wanna share a cab to the next clue?"
Rob frowned as she stared at them, licking her lips. "Yeah, sure. But you can sit by Dreamer."

Jamie slapped Nidia on the rear again. "You heard the man. Go git him!"
Tommy sighed and whispered to Rob. "You know I'll eat just about anything. But there's no way I'm eating that."

*     *    *     *

"Remember, Rosevelt," Hurricane called up to his sidekick. "Concentrate on your superpowers and you will succeed. But just in cade, I'll concentrate too. With my Hurri-powers and your powerful S.H.I.T, we will make you fly."

"Can you believe these dorks?" Test muttered to Stacy, but she just glared at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be shutting up?"

Test scowled back. "Bitch, I'll shut up when I wanna shut up. But now I wanna see living proof that whales can't fly."

"Fly, Rosevelt!" Hurricane cheered. "Fly!"
Things weren't comfortable for Rosey as he hung upside down, but sometimes superheroes had to be able to get out of sticky situations.

"Okay," he said and he sailed rapidly through the air, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"I'm gonna. . ."

". . .Fly!" he screamed, grabbing hold of the second trapeze and feeling his momentum shift again. He didn't let go until he was told he could, then he dropped to the net, a grin on his face.

"You did it, Rosevelt!" Hurricane cried. "You flew!"
Test was absolutely livid. "Where's that damn trapeze?"

"Wow," called a voice. "I don't believe I just saw that."

"Hi Stace," Torrie Wilson greeted her as she entered with an awestruck Billy Kidman. "Is this hard?"
"Well, I've done it," Stacy replied. "But I've been here for like half an hour waiting for Test."

Once again Test came crashing down before their eyes.

"I think I need some chalk on my hands or something," he scowled, before spotting the newcomers. "Hello, Torrie."

Torrie forced a smile. "Hi."

"Come on, Hurricane!" Rosey boomed.

Hurricane moved on the trapeze like a pro, but at the critical moment he slipped and fell to the net.

"I don't understand it," he frowned, picking himself up. "I must have burnt out my Hurri-powers helping you, Rosevelt. Wassup wit' dat?"
"Well, I guess it's my turn," Kidman announced. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck, Billy!" Torrie cheered.

Just then a heavy arm landed on her shoulder. "So Torrie, whattaya say we get together at the pit-stop, share a little strategy for the race?"
"Um, no thanks," Torrie frowned, shrugging Test off.

"Oh, come on, Torrie. I know you watch Raw each week just to see me. Face it. Looking at me makes you wet. . ."

Slap! Torrie's hand crashed into Test's face. And that was when Kidman caught the trapeze.

*     *     *     *

When the third plane finally touched down with the last of the teams, Rey had just stepped out onto the ice. As soon as he moved away from the wall he was startled by the smooth feeling of skating, but he held himself in check and remained upright. Jason Ward was standing next to a row of pucks so Rey began to skate over to him, soon getting the hang of propelling himself forward. But it was only when he'd almost made it that he realized he didn't know how to stop. He tried to spin quickly, but lost his balance and fell flat on his backside, sending his hockey stick flying. Before he managed to pick himself up, he noticed his stick hanging down in his face.

"Never skated?" Jason guessed, helping Rey to his feet.

"I've lived in Mexico and San Diego. I don't do ice," Rey replied.

Jason chuckled. "Okay, well since there's no one else here, I'll give you a quick lesson and make sure you can stay on your feet."

"Sounds good to me," a relieved Rey told him. "Because I think there's a Canadian and a Pennsylvanian right on my tail."

*     *     *     *

"Come on, Brock, we're losing!" Heyman boomed from fifteen feet behind his partner.

"Then keep up," Brock called over his shoulder. "If you'd run we wouldn't be so far behind."

"I can't run too much," Heyman spluttered. "I have asthma."

"You don't have asthma. You're just fat," Brock argued as he finally reached the Insectarium. Once inside he found that the other teams from his plane had already left.

"Either they all went to the circus, or we're in deep shit," he muttered.

"I. . ." Heyman gasped, stumbling into the building. "I made it, Brock."
"Good. Now do what you do best. Eat."

They were each given  plate of insects and Brock immediately started eating. Heyman looked at the plate, then at Brock, then back again.

"I don't know if I can eat this," he announced. "If there's one thing I hate, it's bad food."

Brock stared at him incredulously. "You eat McDonald's three or four times a day and you're calling this bad food?"
"I'm not even gonna answer that, Brock," Paul told him, still cringing at the plate in front of him.

He didn't know that a taxi containing Lance Storm and Dawn Marie had just pulled up at the Botanic Gardens.

*     *     *     *

"There, you got it," Jason announced, watching as Rey skated semi-confidently back and forward before coming to a stop. "Think you're ready to take a shot?"

"Well, not really, but I better, huh?" Rey asked, looping unsteadily around to the pucks.

"Well, if it helps, I'm not much of a goalie," Jason told him, heading into the goals. "And remember, you only have to get one in."

"Okay," Rey murmured to himself. "One in. How hard can that be?"

He looked over at the goals, then down at the pucks and began to shoot, one after the other. Wham-wham-wham-wham-wham. Each shot missed completely or was deflected by Jason, spinning away from the goals.

"No good!" he called, but just then there was the sound of a slow, sarcastic clap. Accompanied by his partner, Chris Benoit had arrived, kitted up and ready to play.

"Off the ice, Mysterio," he ordered, skating easily to the mark as Jason collectged the pucks and lined them up again. "Let a Canadian show you how it's done. Ready, goalie?"

Jason nodded.

Wham-wham-wham-wham-wham. Each shot was dead on target. Shots one and two hit Jason and spun away, but shot three flew between his legs and into the goal.

"Congratulations," called a voice and another hockey player skated onto the ice – the Habs' injured centre, Chad Kilger. He handed the yellow envelope to Benoit, who nodded at him, then speed skated back to Kurt to read the next clue.

"Travel by foot to the base of Mount Royal Park and search for the next route marker."

"Where the heck's Mount Royal Park?" Kurt frowned.

"Kilger," Benoit called, before continuing in French, figuring that Team Mysterio wouldn't be able to understand. "Where is Mount Royal Park?"

"North west from here," Kilger replied. "You can't miss it."
"Thanks," Benoit called, before turning to Kurt. "I'll go get changed and meet you out front."

*     *     *     *

"Damn this circus crap!" a frustrated Test shouted after he fell to the net again.

Hurricane and Rosey had gone; so had Torrie and Kidman. But still Test couldn't make the catch.

Stacy was standing on the second platform, talking animatedly with acrobat number two.

"Son of a bitch," Test muttered. "Could you not be such a slut, Stacy?"
Stacy just smiled down at him. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Forget it," Test sighed, starting to climb the ladder again.

But things were about to go from bad to worse. Three more teams arrived all at once – Matt and Shannon, Lita and Trish, and Molly and Gail.

*     *     *     *

"Come on, Rey," the luchador said to himself. "Just hit the puck in the net. Right in the net."

He took a deep breath and began to shoot. Wham-wham-wham-wham-wham. Shot one ricocheted from Jason's right leg; shot two from his glove. Shot three missed completely and shot four hit Jason's pads again. Shot five hit the side of the goal – and then it went in.

"Way to go, Rey!" his partner called from the sidelines as Chad Kilger skated out with their next clue.

Having read it, Rey headed towards the locker room while his partner went outside, hoping to flag down someone who could show them the way to Mount Royal Park.

There was no one around, but just then a cab pulled up so he slunk back into the shadows to watch.

"There's the route marker!" Christian announced and he and Jericho ran to it, then removed their clue.

"A hockey roadblock?" Jericho mused. "Tremendous. I'm in."

"Well, I can play hockey, too," Christian told him.

"But you're not as good as me," Jericho argued.

"How do you know?" Christian challenged. "Have you ever seen me play?"
"I don't need to. There's absolutely no chance that you're a better hockey player than I am," Jericho told him. "After all, I have been asked to skate in charity games every year. . .not that I ever give to charity."

"But have you ever scored a goal?" Christian asked.

"Okay, okay, let's flip for it," Jericho suggested, pulling a coin from his pocket. "You call."
"Tails," Christian said as the coin travelled up.

Jericho caught it and flattened it on his arm. He slowly took a peek, then looked up at Christian with mock sympathy. "Sorry, junior. You lose."

"What?" Christian snapped. "Give me a look at that."

"Uh, the coin doesn't lie," Jericho stated, running into the building and making a beeline for the locker rooms.

"No, but you do. Come on, Chris. At least tell the truth."

*     *     *     *

"Shouldn't we have seen it by now?" Kurt asked, his feet rapidly pounding the pavement.

"You saying I'm wrong?" Benoit challenged.

"I'm saying that hockey player lied to you," Kurt replied. "You can't trust a Canadian, and a French Canadian's even worse."

"Where the hell do you think the name Benoit's from?" Benoit snapped.

Kurt ignored him and kept on running until they reached the next intersection.

"I still can't see it, Chris," he called, looking in all four directions. "I say we go back."

"No," Benoit insisted. "Kilger said."

"Kilger said, Kigler said," Kurt mimicked. "Guess what, Benoit? Either Kilger screwed up or you did, but this is not the right way."

"It was your idea to take off without looking," Benoit accused. "Mysterio was dead on the ice. If you'd stopped to think about it. . ."

"Well, I've stopped now, Benoit," Kurt told him. "We're not going anywhere."

A frustrated Benoit just shook his head and ignored his partner. The lights changed and he stood ready, intercepting the first person who approached. "Excuse me, how do you get to Mount Royal Park?"
"Down this road until you reach Sherbrooke," the guy replied, pointing. "Take a right, then a left onto Peel. It should be right in front of you."

"Thank you," Benoit said, turning back to Kurt. "We came the wrong way."

"And whose fault's that, Benoit?" Kurt challenged.

"If you'd started running in the right direction," Benoit began, before Kurt cut him off.

"Well, you didn't ask Kilger the exact way," Kurt pointed out. "So you're to blame."

"Kurt. . ."

"No, you're to blame."

"Kurt. . ."

"I'm not listening, Benoit."

"Kurt!" Benoit shouted.

Kurt frowned. "What?"
"Shut your damn mouth and start running."

*     *     *     *

"I can't believe I have to wear this travesty of an outfit," Jericho muttered, staring at his Montreal Canadiens jersey in the mirror. "This doesn't just degrade the sport of hockey, it degrades Chris Jericho. What?" he snapped, turning around to glare at Steven Richards, who'd just arrived and had been watching him in the mirror.

Steven grinned psychotically and held out his hand. "Would you like a bug? I took some extra because some people missed out."

"Get out my damn way, assclown," Jericho snapped, shoving Steven and causing him to drop the bug.

Steven let out a cry and dropped to his hands and knees, searching frantically for the missing insect. "What's Vic gonna say when she finds out I wasted one?"

"Wasted, yeah, that's what you are," Jericho scoffed, grabbing his allocated hockey stick and leaving the room. "Time to kick the living hell out of a goalie."

*     *     *     *

"I see it!" Rey announced, pointing as he and his partner caught their breath at the final intersection. "Over the road there!"
They raced to the route marker and took out their clue.

"Take a bike each and cycle up the path to the Chalet at the top of Mount Royal, the first pit stop in your race around the world. Warning, the last team to arrive will be eliminated."

"Bikes, bikes," Rey mused, searching.

"Here!" his partner called, pointing to a row of bike racks.

"These are the first bikes to go," Rey noted as they each grabbed one. "We must be first. Chris and Kurt had at least five minutes on us, so what happened to them?"

"I dunno, man," his partner replied as he began to pedal. "But they can't be far behind, and neither can Jericho and Christian."

"Let's ride," Rey smiled. "We'll win this thing yet."

*     *     *     *

A dejected Test hung upside down for what seemed to be the millionth time. The other teams were all gone – Lita and Trish first, then Matt and Shannon and finally Gail and Molly. Yet he still couldn't seem to make the catch.

"Concentrate," the acrobat at his end told him (the other one was still flirting with Stacy).

"Whatever," he sighed. "Go."

This time, he closed his eyes. He knew exactly how long he had – he'd done it often enough. When it felt right, he reached and uncoiled himself. The second trapeze hit his open palms and he grabbed casually, knowing there wasn't a chance he'd make it. But he was wrong. The bar stuck in his hands. He'd done it at last.

"Yeah!" he roared obnoxiously, dropping to the net, then leaping up and punching the air. "Take that, Stacy!"

Stacy looked down irritably. "Oh, you finally made it."

"You bet your fine ass I did. Speaking of your ass, get it down here. We have a race to win."

"A race to lose, more like it," Stacy muttered, starting to climb down. "Bye, Lazar. Next time I'm in Montreal I'll look you up."

As soon as her feet touched the ground, Test grabbed her arm and marched her over to the clue box.

"You're my property and when I tell you to move your ass, you do it."

"Fine," Stacy hissed, snatching the clue from his hands. "Let's just go."

*     *     *     *

"Sorry," Jason called. "Try again."

"Dammit Shane!" Vince shouted from the sidelines. "Concentrate on those goals. I do not accept failure!"

"Let's go, Uncle Eddie!" Chavo called.

Next to him, Nidia was sitting on Tommy Dreamer's lap. "So I heard once we get to the pit-stop we get to stay at a really nice hotel. You know, we should ask for two beds so our teams can share. Two beds, or one really big one. We could have a lot of fun in twelve hours."

"What about Jamie?" Tommy asked weakly as Nidia ran her hands up and down his chest.

"Jamie's fine. In fact, he might even join in. Sounds pretty hot, doesn't it? You, me, Jamie, Rob, all in one bed, all nice and cosy. Maybe you can show me why they call you the Innovator of Violence. I made Jamie bring all his toys and if you're a good boy, I'll let you do whatever you want. Sound good, Tommy?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Tommy replied, hoping she'd get off him soon, but he could say no more as Nidia planted her lips on his.

"Hey Dreamer!" Rob's voice called suddenly. "Nidia's cute and all, but I just got a goal, so we gotta go!"

Tommy practically threw Nidia from his lap, relieved to be free at last. "Thanks Rob. You don't know how glad I am to hear that."

"Oh, Tommy?" Nidia called after him. "Rob scored just now, but stick with me and I'll make sure you score later. Bye bye." She blew him a kiss and turned around to look for Jamie. "That's my man! Go, baby!"
"Let's get the hell out of here!" Tommy ordered, leaving Nidia, Vince, Chavo and D-Von behind to wait for their team mates to score a goal.

*     *     *     *

At the top of Mount Royal, Phil Keoghan was standing next to a local man, having just received word that the leading team was on its way. In the distance were two figures on bikes, getting closer all the time. And then, when they were just a few feet away, they threw down their bikes and jumped onto the pit-stop platform.

"Welcome to Montreal," the man greeted them.

Phil looked from one to the other.

"Team Mysterio," he began. "Congratulations. You're team number one."

"Yeah!" a breathless Rey cried, hugging his partner. "We did it!"

"I hear you had some trouble with the roadblock," Phil commented.

"Oh man," Rey nodded. "That was crazy."

"Well, heads up," Phil told them. "Here comes your nearest competition."

Two more bikes hit the ground and two more people raced to the platform.

"Chris and Kurt. You're team number two."

An absolutely exhausted Kurt gave a relieved sigh. "We made it. We're still in."

"Outta the way, monkeys!" called another voice.

"Chris and Christian," Phil said to them. "You're team number three."
Jericho looked bewildered. "No, we're number one, baby."

"You're team number three," Phil repeated.

"Uh, no way," Christian argued. "Who beat us? These dorks? You gotta be kidding me."

Phil didn't answer him. Instead, he spoke to all six. "You now have twelve hours of mandatory rest period before you start the next leg. Enjoy yourselves."

 Kurt was hunched over, hands on his knees. "A drink?" he asked Benoit.

"Yeah," was the Canadian's only reply.

*     *     *     *

Having missed all five shots for the second time, an angry Bubba Ray skated over to Jason and eyed him viciously. Concerned, Jason began to skate backwards and away.

"Hey, you can try again. There's other teams before you but not everyone's showed up yet so. . .argh!" he cried as Bubba grabbed him by the jersey.

"D-Von!" Bubba shouted. "Get the table!"

"Stand back! There's a Hurricane coming through!"

Hurricane wasn't completely flawless on skates, but still made his way over to the raging Dudley.

"Citizen Dudley, you are making a big mistake by attacking this defenceless hockey player. Unhand him at once!"

"Argh!" Bubba roared. The defenceless hockey player had punched him in the head.

"Come on!" Jason shouted, removing his gloves. "You wanna go!"

"Gentlemen!" Hurricane snapped. "Violence is not the answer. . ."

Both Bubba and Jason turned around and pushed him to the ice, then got stuck into each other.

"I'm coming, Hurricane!" Still wearing his normal shoes, Rosey was now on the ice.

And that was just the distraction Eddie Guerrero needed to loop around and score a goal. Lying, cheating and stealing, once again.

*     *     *     *

"Make your way to the home of Canadiens everywhere," Test read, once he and Stacy finally arrived at the Humour Museum, having had to call for another cab. "Back in the cab, bitch. If that means hockey this ain't over yet."

*     *     *     *

"Welcome to Montreal." The next team received their greeting.

"Thank you," Steven replied. "And can I say, you have the best bugs I've ever tasted."

Phil gave them a worried frown before he spoke. "Victoria and Steven. You're team number four."

*     *     *     *

"Come on, Tommy!" Rob urged his team-mate on as they frantically pedalled their bikes. "Nidia might be right behind us."

At that, Tommy put on a burst of speed.

"I see Phil!" he announced. "Let's make a run for it."

The two of them climbed off their bikes and raced for the platform.

"Welcome to Montreal."

"Tommy and Rob. You're team number five."

"Yeah!" Rob high-fived his partner. "So now what do we do?"
"Make sure Nidia doesn't find us, that's what," Tommy told him and they were on the run again.

*     *     *     *

"This time, Brock, this time!" Heyman boomed.

Brock may have been an elite athlete, but he was far too top-heavy to be a skater. Whenever he tried to shoot the puck, he lost his footing and fell, much to the delight of the other teams still awaiting success.

This time, though, he was determined to succeed.

Wham-wham-

"Arghhh!" Bam!

"That's okay, Brock, that was two shots, one more than last time."

"Ha-ha-ha-ha!" A newly arrived Test laughed loudly. "My sister can shoot better then that. Watch this, Lesnar."

"Not so fast, son," Stone Cold argued, stepping out in front of him and onto the ice.

"A Texan in ice skates," Test noted. "After you, boss."

"Don't miss, Steve," Eric ordered. "Again."
Stone Cold fixed his icy blue eyes on Jason. Not long ago he'd been picking the kid up off the ice after a brutal 3-D. Now, though, Jason was his direct opponent. Weakened from the fight, Jason had allowed through goals from Jamie Noble, Bubba Ray Dudley, Billy Kidman, Lance Storm, Triple H, Faarooq and even the Hurricane, but something both Austin and Brock had noticed was that you had to shoot straight to score a goal.

"This time, you mealy-mouthed sum'bitch," Austin muttered. And then he began to shoot.

Wham-wham-wham-pause-wham-wham.

Sure enough, Jason had moved too early for the fourth shot and it went sailing into the net.

"Ha!" Austin cheered. "Texas smarts win out again. Bischoff, you sum'bitch, we're movin' on."

*     *     *     *

"Dammit, Steph, would you just run!" Triple H cried.

"I'm trying, Hunter."

"Yeah, well try harder."

"Afternoon, ladies," Bradshaw called as he and Faarooq ran past them.

"Bradshaw, you come back here!" Stephanie ordered. "I mean it. I won't let you beat me. . .I'll fire you!"

*     *     *     *

"Vince and Shane. You're the sixth team to arrive."

"We did it, dad," Shane smiled, hugging his father.

"However. . ." Phil went on and the McMahons turned back to him in surprise. ". . .You failed to follow the race instructions, which clearly said that you were to drive yourselves from Greenwich to New York City. As a result, you've been penalized one hour. You'll have to hope that some teams take longer than an hour to arrive, or you'll be eliminated."

"What?" Vince cried. "Prove that we cheated. I dare you."

"We have footage of you boarding a plane in Greenwich and disembarking at La Guardia airport," Phil told him. "I'm sorry, but the penalty will stand. All you can do now is hope."

*    *     *     *

Minutes ticked past. Eddie and Chavo were the next team to arrive, followed by Jamie and Nidia, Kidman and Torrie, and Bubba and D-Von. When Lance Storm and Dawn Marie came in and were declared as team number ten, half the teams had reached the pit-stop and there was more than half an hour to go before Vince and Shane's penalty had elapsed. They weren't safe, not by any stretch of the imagination.

*     *     *     *

Wham! The instant Brock's stick connected with the puck, he slipped and fell on the ice again.

"Dammit!" he roared, picking himself up.

Suddenly, he noticed Chad Kilger skating towards him.

"What?" he snapped.

"Congratulations," Kilger replied. "Here's your next clue."

"I got it in?" Brock asked dumbly.

"Come on, Brock!" Heyman cried. "We're not last!"

In the sidelines, Lita turned to Molly. "Well, Miss Molly, it's just the Canadian girls to go. Between you and me, you don't stand a chance."

"We'll see about that," Molly snapped. "We'll see."

*     *     *     *

Faarooq and Bradshaw reached the pit-stop. So did Hunter and Stephanie, Hurricane and Rosey, Stone Cold and Bischoff, and Test and Stacy. There was ten minutes to go when another team came into view.

"Welcome to Montreal."

"Matt and Shannon. You're the seventeenth team to arrive, but because of a penalty given to Vince and Shane, you move up to sixteenth. Congratulations, you're still in the race."

*     *     *     *

"I can't do this, Brock," Paul groaned. "I haven't ridden a bike since I was in short pants."

"Ride, Paul."

"I can't."

"You don't wanna be beat by a bunch of women, do you?"
"No."

"Then ride!"

*     *     *     *

Two teams dumped their bikes and race for the pit stop, almost neck and neck. They jostled for position and ended up landing on the platform together.

"Welcome to Montreal."

"Trish and Lita, Molly and Gail, you're the eighteenth and nineteenth teams to arrive," Phil informed them. "But, because of a penalty given to Vince and Shane, you move up to seventeenth and eighteenth. Congratulations, you're still in the race."

Lita hugged her partner, but stared at the other women over Trish's shoulders.

"Next leg, girls. We're gonna kick your ass!"
Molly nodded smugly. "Next leg."

"Bring it on," Gail added.

And still the time ticked past.

Finally, the last team cycled into view. Their bikes went down and one team member grabbed the other, hoisting him onto his shoulders to run the rest of the way to the platform.

"Welcome to Montreal."

"Brock and Paul," Phil began. "You're the last team to arrive. I have to tell you that Vince and Shane were given a penalty for not following route instructions, however it wasn't enough for your team to catch up. I'm sorry to inform you, you've both ben eliminated from the race."

Brock let out a roar.

"Brock, wait," Heyman pleaded. "What are you doing, Brock? Brock, no!"

Wham! Heyman hit the ground in a huge F-5. Brock stood over him, face red with fury.

"Guess what, Paul? You're fired!"

"Yeah?" Heyman asked weakly. "Well, you suck at hockey."

Brock gave a low laugh, then picked Heyman up and F-5ed him again.

END OF EPISODE

On the next Amazing Race: Will Team Mysterio be able to maintain their lead, and will recognition from other teams reveal the identity of Rey's team-mate? Who will win the battle of the babes as the two all-girl teams attempt to catch the leaders? And will Vince and Shane be able to lift themselves out of last place? One team will be eliminated, who will it be? Find out in the next chapter of 'Race Around The WWE.'

A/N: I hope you guys liked that. Please review me, even if only to let me know who you'd like to see win and who should be eliminated next. I've planned out the basics of each leg of the race, but it's flexible and depends what I can find in guidebooks. Anyway – please review me!!! Oh, and by the way, this chapter goes out to Tecty – thank you for your help! Hope you liked it.